“Oh,” said Nick.

“I see,” Nick said.

“I know,” said Nick.

“Very badly,” I said.

“Yes, we,” said Maera.

“All right,” said Daisy.

“We, I suppose,” I said.

“Me, Manolo,” Manuel said.

“This is the queen,” he said.

“Retana,” he said, listening.

“I want to work,” Manuel said.

“Oh, how do you do,” she said.

“But it will go better,” he said.

“You don’t know,” said his father.

“Be a man, my son,” said one priest.

It was a beautiful country, he said.

I said, “Don’t be a damn fool, Luis.”

“Retana,” he said and banged the door.

“We have good whisky anyway,” he said.

“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly.

“They’re crooks, ain’t they?” said Boyle.

“Who’s there?” said someone in the office.

“Better get one,” said a man in a derby hat.

“Wops,” said Boyle, “I can tell wops a mile off.”

“No. I haven’t any anaesthetic,” his father said.

“You go down after him,” said Maera, “he hates me.”

“This lady is going to have a baby, Nick,” he said.

“No,” he said, very shyly, he did not like Mantegna.

“Hell, Jimmy,” he said, “you oughtn’t to have done it.”

“Yes, of course, if it’s fine tomorrow,” said Mrs. Ramsay.

“Well, after all,” I said, “he’s just an ignorant Mexican savage.”

I grabbed his arm and he pulled loose and said, “Oh, leave me alone.”

“Yes,” Maera said, “and who will kill his bulls after he gets cogida?”

“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.

“No, thanks,” said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry.

“Plastiras is a very good man, I believe,” he said, “but frightfully difficult.”

“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness.

Mrs. Smith, who was a very large clean woman, said Liz Coates was the neatest girl she’d ever seen.

He was very short with a brown face and quite drunk and he said, “After all, it has happened before like that.”

“That’s all right maybe this time,” said Drevitts, “but how did you know they were wops when you bumped them off?”

At Bologna he said goodbye to us to go on the train to Milano and then to Aosta to walk over the pass into Switzerland.

“Those must boil,” he said, and began to scrub his hands in the basin of hot water with a cake of soap he had brought from the camp.

“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more.

I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.

So I went down and caught up with them and grabbed him while he was crouched down waiting for the music to break loose and said, “Come on, Luis.”

All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why⁠—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces.

She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see.

This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it⁠—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.